


Blacklisted

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watanuki's job is to grant wishes. Spirits have very specific ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blacklisted

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ April 15, 2012. 
> 
> A long time ago someone made a joke about how everybody in holic wants to get into Wata's pants. This is the logical conclusion.

**I.**  
Her lips against his are soft and hesitant, fluttering, as if she is preparing herself to run away at any moment. And really, she probably is.  
  
She pulls away slowly, face bright red as she ducks her head, fidgeting with her fingertips.  
  
“I’ve always…” she squeaks out and then clears her throat. “I mean… I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. Many decades.”   
  
“Thank you,” he says, with feeling.   
  
“Is it… okay?” she asks, staring down at her hands and refusing to look up. Her entire body is shaking.   
  
The years have done nothing more than fuel her feelings for him. Even as he changes and mourns and adjusts, she still finds her eyes flickering his way, she still finds reason to help him or be near him, even if, sometimes, it takes her many months or even years to work up the courage to see him. Now she is on the edge of her seat. This is what she prepared for after many years, and it took many years to cross the threshold of his shop and touch her lips to his.   
  
“Yes,” he says, voice soft but almost dismissive. He’s smiling, though. Not an overwhelmingly happy or kind smile, but the kind he has adopted for the past few decades. Professional, distant.  
  
She knows that their feelings do not align, that, in the end, this smile and acceptance is because she wishes for it. This is almost enough to make her run away in shame. But, in the end, she stays, summons the smallest touch of courage deep in her belly.   
  
“Really?” she whispers.  
  
“Yes,” he says again.  
  
She fidgets, then looks up at him. His smile is too much, though, and she has to look away again. She fidgets more, but then leans forward, eyes closed. He closest he distance and kisses her again, cradling her cheek and drawing her closer. She holds onto his shoulders, her touch gentle.   
  
And then she manages to summon the countless decades of courage and leans back, drawing him with her.   
  
She doesn’t dare open her eyes when he pulls away from the kiss.  
  
“Is it okay?” she asks, face red and voice weak.   
  
She knows what it means, but it’s what she wants. How desperately she wants it.  
  
He leans in close and whispers, “If it’s what you wish.”   
  
  
  
**II.**   
She crawls up on top of him, angling her hips down against his. She feels him tense beneath her, and she smiles.  
  
“You’ve really become quite cute,” she decides, lips sliding up into a smirk.   
  
He doesn’t quite respond, but gives her a small smile in return, almost unsure but, at the very least, self-assured.   
  
“Hmmm,” she exhales, rolling her hips lazily.  
  
She leans down to kiss him. He kisses her back after a moment, even as it feels like she’s trying to coax out the smallest touch of magic—not enough to make him stop, not enough to make the pipe fox flare up—but enough that he feels it slide between them.   
  
“You know,” she whispers against his mouth. “Cute or not, it’s not very nice to use me just because you want to be touched.”   
  
“And then why come to me?” he asks, doesn’t dispute or accept the accusation.   
  
“Oh, this and that,” she laughs. “Perhaps your lost eye longs for the other. I really wouldn’t know.”   
  
She flips her hair off over one shoulder and smiles, coy.  
  
“Although, I’m not so foolish as to try to take the other one. I may covet that power but I’m not so ridiculous as to go after beings more powerful than myself.”   
  
She curls her fingers down his chest, lazy and undefined, catching and dragging the fabric of his kimono. He tenses up for a moment when her hands threaten to tear the delicate fabric, threadbare after so many years of wear.   
  
She lifts her hand away. “Besides,” she concludes, “It’ll be more interesting to watch the years stretch out, and see how much like us you become.”   
  
She smiles at him. He says nothing.   
  
So she leans down and kisses him again.   
  
  
  
**III.**   
“ _You,_ ” she says, loudly, her hands gripping her umbrella with all the furry in the world but the delicacy not to snap the thing in half. “ _You_ —YOU!”   
  
“Yes?” he asks, perplexed to see her angrier than he usually does. “What is it?”   
  
“Don’t tell me a person like _you_ did ‘that’ with that child!” she practically shrieks.   
  
He smiles apologetically, holding his hands up as a peace offering.  
  
“Well…”  
  
“ _UGH,_ ” she groans, face scrunching up. “I should have known. That child has no taste and it was only a matter of time before you took advantage of her.”  
  
She stomps around, glaring at everything—except for the pipe fox, whom she regards with a level of warmth that Watanuki probably has never seen from her before.   
  
“And what’s so great about you?” she demands, cornering him against the wall and staring at him intently, trying to unravel the mystery. “Ugh, I don’t get it.”  
  
“Sorry,” he says.   
  
She glares more, then pokes at his chest. “You better be! You need to take responsibility!”   
  
“Right,” he says.   
  
“Disgusting, classless _simpleton!_ ” she snaps—  
  
—and then leans forward and kisses him. He is surprised, tensing up, but doesn’t pull away. Mostly because the wall is directly behind him.  
  
She does pull away quickly enough, nose curling in disgust. She wipes the back of her hand against her mouth.   
  
“ _UGH._ Humans.”   
  
It rains all day and night.   
  
  
  
**IV.**   
“Meow,” she purrs, slinking up to the veranda and nuzzling up to his hand.  
  
He pets her. “Good evening.”  
  
“Oh, very good, meow,” she chirps, and nuzzles against his hand more. “I’ve heard some positively _delicious_ rumors lately.”  
  
“Is that so?” he says, for lack of anything else to say.   
  
“Yes, yes!” she curls up beside him, blinking up at him and batting at his kimono sleeves. “Very interesting, really…”  
  
“Oh,” he says, politely.   
  
“Pet me more,” she demands.  
  
He obeys, stroking his hand up over her head, against her ear, down her back. She purrs appreciatively. She rests there, eyes closed, arching a little when he hits just the right spot. The spot behind her ear, the underside of her chin, the base of her spine.   
  
“So, are they true?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The rumors.”  
  
“Which?” he asks, innocent.  
  
“Meow…” she sighs out, pouting. She rolls onto her back so he can struck under her chin, scratching lightly at her jaw. She purrs for a moment before resuming the pout. “No fair.”  
  
He laughs.


End file.
